The Past and Other Things That Should Stay Buried(67)

Rafi tilts his head so he can look me in the eyes. “She wasn’t your cousin, was she?”

“If I say no, are you going to follow that up with a bunch of questions about who she was?”

“Probably.”

“Then of course she was my cousin.”

“Does this have anything to do with why your hands are covered in Band-Aids?”

“Couldn’t say.”

“Will you tell me the truth someday?” he asks.

“Maybe when the statute of limitations runs out.”

“On what?”

I shrug. “Whatever.”

Rafi grins and rolls his eyes, but I can sense that he’s not quite certain whether I’m joking. It’s best to let him assume whatever his imagination is cooking up. Rafi’s sweet, kind, he looks good in clothes, and he assumes the best of everyone, so I doubt he’ll ever come close to guessing the truth.

“July would have loved this,” I say. I’m not sure what made me bring her up. I think, no matter what—whether we’re friends or enemies, whether she’s dead or not-dead—she’s always going to be in my head, demanding I pay attention to her. It’s kind of who she is.

Rafi squeezes me tighter. “Would she?”

“Definitely,” I say. “Like, this was totally her thing. The chance to mingle and make a fool of herself for the amusement of a large, captive audience? She would have been on the dance floor for every song. Except during the cake cutting.”

“July liked cake?”

“July loved cake.”

“What kind was her favorite?”

“The kind with cake,” I say. “Weren’t you listening?” I laugh to myself thinking about it. “Every year, her mom had to make two cakes for her birthday. One for July and one for everyone else.”

Rafi snorts. “You weren’t kidding.”

“She took it very seriously.”

“What about pie?”

I shrug. “She’d eat it if she had to.”

The song switches to a country song I’ve never heard that I assume Theo picked out, and I lead Rafi off the floor to an empty table. I remembered to wear an undershirt this time, so I strip off my jacket and hang it on the back of the chair.

“How come you never brought July around?” Rafi asks. “I always thought it was weird that she was your best friend but that we never met.”

“We were fighting,” I say.

Rafi leans into me. “Yeah, but before that.”

“Worlds colliding.”

“Sorry?”

There’s a mostly full flute of champagne sitting on the table, begging me to drink it, so I do and hope that the person who started to drink it doesn’t have the plague. “Weren’t you the least bit scared to introduce me to your friends?”

Rafi shakes his head. “No.”

“Like, you weren’t worried they’d like me better or that they’d hate me or that I’d insult Kandis and you’d have to break up with me or date me in secret?”

“Were you worried about that with me?”

I sigh. “No. Because you’re awesome. And July’s awesome too. I had this perfect relationship with July. She knew me and I knew her, and we had routines and places and activities that belonged to us. Late-night dinners at Monty’s and going to see weird plays and movies together. Then we met and I really, really liked you. You were different than July, and I enjoyed the time we spent together, but I didn’t want to give up my little world with July either. I liked having my worlds separate.”

“Oh,” Rafi says. “I guess I get that.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. That’s kind of how I feel about ballet and school. Dance is mine, I don’t have to think about you when I’m dancing, and I can escape dance when I’m with you. One day, if we’re still together, I’ll bring you into that world, but I can understand you wanting to keep your life with July to yourself.”

The crack in the sidewalk grows wider, and a dandelion shoot yawns toward the sun.

We sit on the sidelines for a while and then there’s cake and speeches and more dancing. My mom cuts loose with Rafi, and I knew he could dance, but not like that. It’s hot because it’s him, and it’s awkward to watch because it’s with my mom, and I’ve never been so confused in my life. Even though the bride and groom usually open gifts on their own after the wedding, Dad announces that he’s changing the name of the funeral home, and this time everyone is staring at Delilah, who can’t stop crying.

I don’t think my parents have given up trying to recruit me into the family business, but I get the feeling they’ll be okay if I forge my own path.

I’m in the middle of being grilled by my mom’s cousin—or second cousin; I can’t keep them straight and Dee only invited them for the gifts—about the grossest body I’ve ever seen, when my phone buzzes. I excuse myself, grateful for the interruption. Rafi’s on the dance floor holding an impromptu dance class with a horde of older women who are watching him like they’ve forgotten he’s only seventeen. I wave as I take out my phone to check my messages.

JULY: Meet me outside.

I’m going to kill her. She can’t be here. I make sure no one is watching, then I slip out of the ballroom. The country club is a maze, and I get lost and end up in the kitchen before finally finding the front entrance. Standing off to the side is July, in the ugliest dress I’ve ever seen, holding two blue raspberry Slurpees.